Dear Sadie
by wild aces
Summary: Sadie was the glue that held everything together. Take a glimpse at her past and her future through the letters she recieved.
1. Patsy

Sadie,

So your sister invites me in for a drink, right? I mean, she just had an ice tea, but I went right to the hard stuff, straight vodka. I figured out where your daddy-o kept all the good drinks forever ago. It's not like I'm gonna go stealing your drinks or anything. I mean…whatever. I'm not good with words, alright? You know that. Writing letters, that ain't my strong point or anything. My only strong point is cutting though the bullshit. Music comes second, maybe. I'm not smart like you or a pop princess like Jude or have an ear for talent like Jimmy or some super producer like everyone's favorite golden boy Tommy Q.

Whatever. I'm getting off topic here. Funny how stuff really comes out when you're writing, huh? This is some deep shit right here.

Anyway, so we're drinking and just messing around, and Jude pulls out these big-ass _photo albums_. God, your parents must've spent a fortune paying for those pictures alone. They had way too much time to burn. I mean, if I was married I would not be spending time making photo albums, I guarantee you. So we're flipping through all these pictures and we get to the part around the time where Jude won Contest of the Devil (known to mere mortals as _Instant Star_), yeah? And God, Sadie, you dressed like a _slut_. I mean, I was shocked. Really. Whenever I see you, you're always so professionally dressed like you're trying to suck the fun out of the world. Not in a bad way, though. You pull it off, I guess. But so then when I said something about it, Judey told me all about your _promiscuous _days. You really got around, eh?

Sure, I know you're obsessed with the man folk. I mean, everyone within a mile of G Major Studios knows about your little thing with Tommy. And now you're after Kwest, or so I hear. But I didn't know it was many boys. Maybe I shoulda guessed. Not that you look like you're a girl that's slept around. I said you look professional right?

So anyway we get to talking about you and I say, I don't think your sis likes me. And Jude says, are you kidding me? Of course she likes you, Pats. And I say, well we don't really get along. And then Jude gives me this look. I always thought you had that mutual respect thing going on, she says. That's stupid, I say, why would she respect me? I ain't respectable. You've got balls, Jude laughs at me. She thinks you're brave, like when you stood up for me at the bar mitzvah. Plus, she says, you kill on stage, dude. Sade _loves _that.

Well I been thinking hard on that, and I figure, since you two've got that sister thing going on, it's probably true. I can't figure a reason why it _shouldn't _be true. But you know, mutual, I couldn't figure what I respected you for. I mean, I guess I _should _respect you. You got a good job, you got a good boy toy (okay, not as good as mine), you're the opposite of me. You don't get stoned nearly as often as I do, if ever. You don't drink like a sailor or curse like one, like I do. You're damn respectable, Sadie. But those ain't the kinda things I respect. I respect people who got balls. I respect people who got talent--well, I don't know shit about whether or not you got talent—and I respect ladies who aren't ruled by their men, and sometimes it seems to me like your whole life revolves around men. Guys don't know shit, Sadie. It's us who should be making them squirm, not the other way around.

I thought long and hard about why I would respect you, Sadie, which is weird 'cause normally, I don't think at all. Using my head—not my strong point. But hey, we already went through that song and dance, right? No need to go back to my huge flaws.

But anyway, I finally came up with why I respect you, and it's big. I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of myself. You should be grateful—I don't make this much of an effort for everyone. But I think you're okay, Harrison, so I thought it was worth a try. And hell, I actually _succeeded._ Quite the ego booster, it is.

So here it is Sadie: I respect you, because you were a slut, but you overcame it, and now, you just obsess over one, maybe two guys at a time. That's pretty decent. Why did you, anyway? Is it something about growing up that I'm missing? I mean I'm practically over the hill here, and I still hate adults and their stupid rules and their stupid stuffiness. But I hate sluts too, and you're not one. So anyway, I respect you.

I guess you probably weren't expecting me to write you a letter. Didn't really plan it, though. I was kind of just excited about really accomplishing something, especially with a major hangover like I have, so here's this dumb letter. I'll probably regret this later. Feel free to burn it. But if you did read all the way to the end here…thanks. I worked pretty damn hard on it.

Respectfully yours,

Patsy.

P.S. I know you don't think I can spell—well, I can't. But where the Mac spell check (gift from the gods) fails, Jamers succeeds. All in all, this letter thing is a pretty big deal for me. I may just print off a copy for myself.


	2. Jude

Sadie,

I'm pregnant.

_Pregnant_, Sade. Honest-to-God, morning-sickness-and-growing-rounder-each-day pregnant. I've got a bun in the oven, as some might say here in England.

Sadie, I have a kid in my stomach, and I don't know what to do.

I don't know how it could have happened. The last time I…you know…with Tommy, I swear, we used protection. I remember the condoms, Sadie! But they must have been faulty or _something_, because I took a test, Sade. I took multiple tests. Positive, positive, positive.

Of course, I couldn't see a doctor. If this gets out, it'll ruin me for good. I'll be dropped from my new label and I've barely even started yet. My fans won't respect me. No one will like me. Jesus, Sade, I'm royally _screwed_.

Maybe my fans _will_ still respect me. I mean, a lot of stars get pregnant. Lots of them are younger than me, even. But I don't know if I can handle the press and the pressure and my label ('cause I'm positive—there's that word again—I'd be dropped. 100% positive).

And I _know _I can't face Tommy.

Because if you want the truth, I haven't spoken to him since I left. I've wanted to. I've tried. I've called him and texted and written letters, written a letter practically every day, but he never answers. And for more of this fabulous truth telling, I'm not one bit surprised. I broke off our engagement by announcing in concert I'd be leaving alone.

Sadie, if I could go back and do it all over again, I'd do things differently. You know I act on impulse sometimes. I'm a complete _idiot_, Sadie! I know that it was the right thing to do—leave Tommy behind, I mean—but I could have done it nicer. And maybe if I'd talked to him we'd have been able to work things out. I've been working my ass off over here just because whenever I stop and think this regret burns at me like a fire in my chest.

So obviously, I've written a lot of songs about it.

Sadie, I have no idea what to do. I don't have anyone to turn to except for you. I don't want to worry Dad and I barely speak to Mom. I don't have any girlfriends—my last two have died and kidnapped me, respectively—and what use would Spied, Wally, and Kyle be? I shudder to think what Jamie would say, and Tommy…well, I've already covered that, I think.

Sadie, you've been my rock for so long. I know we've had our rough points, but you've always been there when I needed you and I've tried to be the best sister I can be for you. We've been through a lot together, and now, I need your help to get through _this_.

When I think about it, Sadie, you're not just my rock. You've got this way of reaching out to everybody around and taking responsibility in a way I never could. I may have gotten the singing voice, but yours is the voice that people really stop and listen to. Luckily for all of us, you use your powers for good and just basically fix our lives up. You're a great friend to have and I'm so glad you're my sister. Just writing to you makes me feel a little more confident, makes me feel like everything will work itself out. I know that once you get involved you'll do everything you can to make it better.

Still, I'm scared. Being pregnant as I am I've had a lot of mood swings, but mostly I'm just scared. I'm scared for a) my career, b) my baby daddy (oh, Lord!), and c) my _baby_. I'm not ready for this, Sade, not ready for any of it. Just thinking about raising a kid makes my head spin. I'd be a terrible mother. I'm already a terrible role model for my fans. I've made too many bad choices.

And Sadie? I also have a little secret. Even though I'm scared of how much this whole pregnancy thing is going to change my life…I kind of love it. Not the pregnant part, not at all. Being pregnant is a nightmare, trust me. I mean the kid. The little baby inside of me. It's just like, a _miracle_, Sade. That there's this…this other life inside me. It inspires me and it drives me crazy and makes me sad and happy all at the same time. So even though I mostly just hate it, wish it never happened…part of me is really proud to be carrying this child. And okay, part of me is really proud to be carrying Tom Quincy's child. I love the baby and I love him. I hate that I do, but I can't help it.

I feel like fate is sending me some huge signs; I feel like the universe is telling me to pay attention to something, but I'm not quite sure what it is. And that's what makes me so scared. I feel like my life (and my child's life) is completely out of my hands at this point. I've lost control. Someone else has taken the wheel. I don't know what to do or who to turn to and that's why I need you, Sadie, because I just don't know. I don't know anything. Already, I'm a terrible mother.

I'll try not to do anything stupid until you reply, Sadie, but I'm worried and I'm delicate and my mind is…frazzled, I guess you could say. I really want to come home but I also really want to stay here and finish this album because it's going to be my best yet. I've got a really good feeling about it. But obviously there are some major complications.

Please help me, Sadie.

I'm about four months along.

If you see Tommy, could you tell him I need to talk to him? Urgently?

I love you, Sadie. And thank you. I know you'll do all you can.

Love,

Jude

P.S. One of the songs on my album is about you. It's one of my best.


	3. Kwest

Dear Sadie,

You're a head case. That's all I can come up with. Really, who the hell kisses somebody who's NOT their boyfriend, and then claims it was for "us"? It wasn't for "us" Sadie, it was for you. Was I not enough? 'Cause I pulled out all the stops for you, girl. I was suave. I was mysterious. I barely ever hurt you. I loved you. I _love _you.

You're a head case and I love you. This huge part of me wants to just accept what you told me, accept that you meant well, and go put our hotel room to use. But I can't, because another part of me wants to hurt you the same way you hurt me. The worst is that I know I never could. I can't tolerate the thought of anybody hurting you, much less me. Still, just when I think our relationship is getting better and better, you throw this anvil on me. So it's almost cruel how I can't stop thinking about you. You've got this grip on me. Is it cliché to say I've never felt this way before? I never have. I've never met anyone like you. You're beautiful, but there's so much more to you. You're smart--off the charts smart—you're responsible, organized, charming, sweet. You're caring and you look out for people. I think you're amazing.

And yet, for someone so unique, you end up just like all the others—crazy for little Tommy Q of Boyz Attack. Tom's a good pal but I always end up in his shadow. There have been lots of girls, Sadie. Tons. But the only ones who've ever stuck by me were either a, anti-Boyz Attack (They were frightening and hard to come by) or b, completely unaware of my friendship with Tom Quincy (that didn't last long).

Tommy knows it, too. He isn't quite the same as he was a few years ago, but he used to be cocky as hell, flaunting the fact that he got all the ladies, making everybody around him feel insignificant. He knows he could have any girl he wants and it makes me so angry that he felt the need to take mine. I don't know what's with either of you. Why do you people have to hurt me? Can't a guy just be happy? Maybe Tommy's just jealous of me, but I can't really see that. Tommy's always had the better career, but I never complained and I was never jealous. I was always a good friend to him, but I guess I wasn't as important to him as I thought I was. Anyway, the point is that he always manages to steal my girls. I never really blamed him for it, knew that girls couldn't help but fall for the famous one. I blame him now, because you weren't just another girl.

With you, I thought I was in the clear. You'd already been on the Tommy train and hopped off a wiser woman (or so I thought). And man, I really fooled myself into thinking you were "the one." I guess it's because all the signs were there, my stars were aligned, or something. The whole Tommy thing, for one, but then there were other little things. The way my heart beat a little bit faster when you were around. The way I worked harder if I thought you were watching. The way I was always just a little bit _more_,because maybe it would impress you.

I don't know why I was so sure. I have to remember not to put faith in good feelings alone. Thing is, I knew you were a heartbreaker, Sadie. That was my first impression of you, back when you were just a kid, another girl hanging off Tommy's arm. Used to think that's what made you a good couple, 'cause that's a quality you both share. But then I realized—or thought I realized—that there was more to you. I never dreamed, though, that you would break _my _heart.

So this is good bye, Sadie. You are not "the one" and you never were "the one." I'll just have to keep telling myself that until it's true. Can't say I'm not disappointed, though. I thought we had a solid, maybe even specialrelationship. I would ask why you did it, but I don't really want to know.

Just know this, Sadie, while you're off rekindling your relationship with Tommy: He may be the star I'm not, but Tom Quincy is not a better man then I am. And that's the truth.

Sincerely,

Kwest

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**a/n: hello everyone. thanks for reading my story, and thanks to those who have reviewed. i really hope you enjoy it and there are more on the way. if you have any questions, comments, or criticism, please put them all in a review. also, if anyone has any suggestions for a letter, please tell me! thanks a lot everybody. ace.**


	4. Maddy

**a/n: a short one. sorry if the language offends. enjoy!**

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Dear Sadie,

I hate your guts, you backstabbing whore.

Aiden was mine and you knew it. Don't give me any crap about him kissing you and not kissing back and it was entirely _not _your fault. It was your fault because you're such a slut. If you hadn't flirted with him all the time he wouldn't have kissed you. It doesn't matter if you kissed back even though I think you did. I shouldn't have been so ignorant. I should have seen this coming. But now it's over and we're over.

That's why I'm writing, to tell you that our best friendship is over, our friendship is over, any kind of relationship we had is over. I don't even want to be your lab partner. I don't even want to pass by you in the halls. I don't ever want to speak to you again and don't you dare try to talk to me, Sadie, because I might have to slap you. And I'm going to make sure every senior, if not every person in school, knows what you did.

You think you're such a little princess just because your sister is famous? Well guess what, Sadie, you're not half as talented as her, and her music is crap. So that says a lot about you. Just because Daddy's little girl gets everything she wants doesn't mean she can go stealing other people's boyfriends.

I hate your guts and I hope you die. I never want to see you ever again.

From,

Maddie


End file.
